Bow Belles

by Bow Belles (retail) (epub)

  It had all begun with the fight with William and the subsequent visit to the pub; the pub where Alex had found her. Oh, God! It was him, the man in her dreams, the man whose image always brought her awake, sweating and shaking with fear. Because even though he himself hadn’t perpetrated the horrendous attack, he had been responsible, she knew. Even though she would never be able to prove it, she knew. His visit to the pub, the angry words that had been exchanged and the revelation that he was trying to get rid of her, coupled with the ensuing attack, was too much of a coincidence to be ignored. And it was fear of returning to the house where he lived that had kept the truth locked from her mind for so long.

  She was a coward! A despicable coward for allowing her personal safety to keep her from her children. Her children! Dear God! Her children, trapped in the house with that maniac! She had to wake up, she had to rouse herself from the self-induced stupor and get to her children. All other thoughts, even the sickening memory of the brutal rape, were wiped away in her desperate need to see her children. Then another more frightening thought struck her.

  How was she going to explain her long absence to them? They thought she was dead: she’d heard Robert say so to Mrs Palmer. And what of her face? She had never looked in a mirror since the day she had arrived here. Was she hideously scarred? It was going to be hard enough returning home after such a long time, but what if she was so badly deformed that her children turned away in frightened disgust? She had to see, had to see for herself, no matter how bad it was. She had to see! She wasn’t aware she had spoken aloud until Mrs Palmer appeared at her side.

  ‘Here, ma’am, you’ve had a dreadful shock. You just take a sip of this. It’ll make you feel better.’

  When the brandy was raised to her lips, she drank it gratefully, shuddering as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. With the help of Nellie she pulled herself upright, her head suddenly clear. ‘Thank you. I’m all right, so please don’t worry. Now if you’d be kind enough to bring me a mirror, I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘Oh, ma’am,’

  The anguish in the woman’s voice brought Florrie’s head up, and for a few tender moments the mistress and the housekeeper gazed at each other with a warmth that brought a lump to their throats. ‘Go on, Nellie. Do as I ask, please. It will be the last service I ask of you.’

  ‘Oh, ma’am,’ Nellie cried again and she looked at her master for confirmation. When he nodded grimly, she bowed her head and hurried from the room.

  A heavy silence fell on the two remaining people. It was all the more painful because of the unexpected turn of events. Clearing his throat, Robert clasped his hands behind his back to conceal their trembling, and said hoarsely, ‘I take it you remember everything? And, that being so, you’ll be anxious to return to your family?’

  Florrie’s eyes misted with emotion. ‘Oh, Robert, don’t say it like that! You sound as if I can’t wait to get away from you, and you couldn’t be more wrong. But I have children, children who need me… and I need them, Robert.’

  ‘I need you, too, damn it!’ The words were torn from his lips before he could stop them.

  Florrie’s eyes widened in surprise. Could it be, could it possibly be, that he felt more for her than just as a friend? What might have happened then she never knew, for at that moment Mrs Palmer returned, and with much reluctance handed Florrie a gilt-edged mirror.

  Swallowing nervously, she held it in shaking hands. It would be too much of a shock to suddenly confront herself. Instead, she half closed her eyes and slowly raised the mirror to her face, watched anxiously by the two people who had grown to love her. She cautiously peeped into the glass, a racking sob tearing through her at the sight that met her eyes. Both sides of her face bore jagged scars. The left side one started at her forehead and ended abruptly at the corner of her upper lip, while the one on the right side ran the length of her cheek before disappearing inside her high-necked collar to connect with the familiar scar that had mutilated her body. The hand holding the mirror shook violently, the action was not lost on either Nellie or Robert, both of whom started towards her.

  Sensing their intention, Florrie shook her head firmly. ‘No… No, please, I know you mean well, both of you, b—but I must get used to it.’ She raised the mirror again, this time with a steady hand, her chin becoming resolute as she stared long and hard at the face that was both familiar and alien. Finally she laid the mirror aside with a tremulous smile, and in a voice that wavered despite her bravest efforts, said, ‘I think I’ll have some of that rouge and powder you offered, Mrs Palmer. And bring plenty of it. I shall need all the embellishment I can find.’

  With a wail of despair, Nellie pulled her apron up over her face, and fled.

  ‘Will you be leaving immediately?’ Robert’s curt voice came at her, but no effort on his part could disguise the aching hurt he was feeling.

  Florrie, too, was experiencing a great surge of emotional distress, yet she knew it would be pointless to let it show. Whatever she felt for Robert, or he for her, there could be no future for them, so there was no point in dwelling on what might have been. The best thing she could do now, for both their sakes, was to keep the conversation on an even, impersonal keel.

  ‘I heard you talking about William… my husband. You said he’d had an accident. Is he… I mean, is he all right?’

  Shifting his ground, Robert sat down by the fireplace, his expression concerned as he recalled his suspicions. Before answering her, he asked a question of his own. ‘Do you know who was responsible for attacking you?’

  Keeping her face impassive, Florrie shook her head. ‘No. That is, I remember their faces, but I’d never seen them before. It was likely a random assault. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ She gave a brief account of the circumstances that had led to her being in that vicinity on that morning, omitting any reference to Alex’s part in the sordid affair. It would do no good to voice her suspicions regarding her stepson. She had no proof that he had been involved, and she didn’t want Robert drawn into her family’s troubles; he had done more than enough for her already.

  Anxious to get off the subject, she was about to ask again about William when her children’s faces swam in front of her eyes, and with the vivid images came a feeling of urgency, stripping aside her stoic façade as the full impact of her situation was brought home to her in a blinding flash of reality. Her eyes welling with tears, her body shaking, she began to talk, openly and without restraint, stumbling over the words in a frantic need to share the memories of her new-found past.

  ‘Billy was due to start school… He was so nervous, he followed me everywhere that past week, afraid to let me out of his sight. He’ll be frantic… And Kate, she was so afraid I was going to leave them! You see, I’d had a fight with William, and she was worried. I must go to them now, this minute. I have to explain to them what’s happened… I must see them! I have to see my children!’

  Holding her arms, Robert held her tightly. ‘Anne… Oh, my lord, I can’t think of you as anyone but Anne. But listen to me, my dear. It’s been almost two years. It’s going to come as a great shock to them all. They think you’re dead, so you can’t simply…’ He broke off, furious with himself for being so tactless, yet even in his darkest hour he realised that, apart from that first brief enquiry about her husband, her main and seemingly only concern was for her children. Her glaring omission gave him a brief glimmer of hope.

  But that hope was dashed as she asked tentatively, ‘And what about William? You still haven’t answered my question. What sort of accident has he had? Is it… Is it serious?’

  Was there a note of hope in the question, or was he simply clutching at straws in a desperate attempt to hang on to his dreams? Again he felt shame for thinking such a thing. He answered gruffly, ‘He had a fall, and as a result suffered a mild heart attack, but yes, he will recover, given time and plenty of rest. He is well enough to return home, but I thought in the circumstances it would be wise
r to keep him in hospital a while longer. I didn’t know what you would want me to do regarding him… I mean, your husband.’ Christ! How hard it was to keep having to use that word. ‘I think it would be best, given his state of health, if I were to break the news to him. He is still recovering from a heart attack, and the shock of suddenly seeing you after all this time might well bring on another. But, of course, the decision rests with you. If you like, I can take you to the hospital first, and maybe, if he takes the news well, you could face your children together. It will probably make it easier for you if you have your husband by your side, and…’

  ‘NO!’ Florrie shouted in alarm. She didn’t want to see William, and she doubted if he would want to see her. She was glad he wasn’t badly hurt, yet, knowing him, he would milk his ill-health for the last drop of sympathy. And it would be her task now to care for him, to take on the role of nurse, but that would be the only role she would adopt towards the man who had long ago become a husband to her in name only.

  After the initial shock was over, they would resume their married life together, and she would try and put Robert out of her mind. ‘Oh, dear God, help me!’ she prayed silently. ‘How will I ever be able to live with William again when I could stay here with the man I love? But I don’t have any choice. I have to go back and try to rebuild my life. I have to, for the children’s sake, because, when all’s said and done, they’re the ones who matter most.’ Averting her face from Robert’s quizzical gaze, she took another swallow of the comforting brandy.

  Her short outburst confirmed Robert’s opinion about the relationship between Anne and her husband, but it gave him no joy. She was still going to leave him, and there was nothing he could do to stop her going. If William Browning had been able-bodied and a stronger character, Robert would have been tempted to ask Anne to leave him and bring her children here. But he wasn’t such a man, and men such as he could bind people to him, effectively using their weakness as a form of emotional blackmail. But should he mention his suspicions about the alleged fall?

  Good lord! What was he dithering about! Anne… Florrie… No, he couldn’t get used to calling or thinking of her anything else but Anne, yet why was he worrying? The chances were he wouldn’t be called on to use her name after today. Stop it! he rebuked himself sternly, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow in self-pity later. At present your immediate concern is to make sure Anne will be safe in returning to her home.

  Firmly disregarding the niggling, persistent part of him that whispered, ‘This is her home’, he spoke carefully. ‘I don’t think your husband’s fall was the accident he claims. When I examined him, I found bruising on his stomach consistent with a heavy blow, although when I tried to talk to him about it, he became so agitated that I was afraid to push the subject. Can you think of anyone who…’

  Florrie’s hand jerked violently, sending droplets of brandy over her skirt. Robert started to speak, then held his tongue as he witnessed a metamorphosis in her pale face: a face that had become filled with loathing.

  Forgetting her previous resolve not to mention the hated name, Florrie’s lips tightened with rage. ‘Alex!’

  The world was spat out with such venom that Robert recoiled in shocked surprise. Then he remained speechless while he listened to the full account of the events leading up to the morning she had been found, dumped like a heap of rubbish in an open doorway. Stunned, he sat passive, then he was on his feet, tearing at his hair as he fought to control his anger and fear.

  ‘You must go to the police at once! You can’t return home, not now, not after what you’ve told me. The man’s insane! He must be locked up before he succeeds in killing someone. Your husband’s silence has nothing to do with family loyalty… he is terrified. Why, I wasn’t even aware he had a son until now. Neither he nor your daughter mentioned him, and there can be only one reason for their silence. They’re afraid of him. Afraid if they speak out against him, he’ll finish what he started. This cannot be tolerated, Anne! I’m informing the police…’

  ‘And what are you going to tell them, Robert?’ Florrie’s voice came to him, hard and unyielding. ‘As I’ve already told you, there’s no proof that Alex had anything to do with the attack on me, and William certainly won’t speak out against him. Oh, no, my stepson may be evil, he is also very clever, and yet…’ Her forehead wrinkled in perplexity. ‘Kate wouldn’t be so easily intimidated. If Alex was the cause of William’s accident, she wouldn’t stand by and let him get away with it. Not unless he has some kind of hold over her, some threat he can use as a weapon to keep her quiet.’

  She let her words trail off uneasily, wondering what threat could be strong enough to ensure Kate’s silence. Unless, of course, there was another explanation for the bruising on William’s stomach. After all, what possible reason could Alex have for trying to kill his father? Yet maybe Alex didn’t need a reason, maybe he simply enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Impatient and afraid of the way her thoughts were leading, she shifted restlessly on the chair. She was doing herself no good in imagining the worst. There would be time enough to deal with Alex once she returned home.

  ‘No, Robert. The police can be of no use to us. As I’ve already said, my stepson is very clever and, whatever he’s done, he will have covered his tracks carefully. My family’s problems will have to be dealt with independently of the law.’

  Robert stared in rising dismay at the strong, determined figure, hardly recognising her as the woman he had shared his home with for so long.

  Noticing his look, Florrie smilingly shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Robert, but, don’t you see, it was the fear of Alex that kept my memory from returning? I don’t know how I know that. I just do. I’ve been hiding behind the mask of Anne Jones to escape from what happened to me – and the man I’m sure was responsible. He may on the other hand be completely innocent, but I won’t know until I return home and speak to Kate.’ She took his hand, her heart leaping in an agonising mixture of happiness and sorrow as his strong fingers curled round hers, the loving gesture saying more than any words could have voiced.

  When Mrs Palmer returned, carrying a large box under her arm, Florrie noted her red-rimmed eyes, her own misting in sympathy for the elderly woman’s distress.

  ‘All this stuff is quite old, ma’am,’ she apologised in a crackling voice. ‘I don’t often get the chance to use it. Will you be wanting me to help, or would you rather do it yourself?’

  ‘I would be grateful for your help, Nellie. Like you, I haven’t used any cosmetics for quite some time.’

  Robert watched as the pots and jars were taken from the box. Feeling the need to be alone, he grunted, ‘I’ll leave you two women to your work. I’ll be in the garden if you need me.’

  Florrie’s eyes followed him from the room, then, giving herself a mental shake, she managed a watery smile.

  ‘Now then, Mrs Palmer, let’s see what miracles can be achieved with the wonders of rouge and powder!’

  Carefully Nellie covered Florrie’s scarred face with a liberal coating of powder before applying the contents of the rouge pot to her high cheekbones. When she was finished, she stood back, her misery abating slightly as she surveyed her work. Handing the mirror to Florrie, she waited for the reaction of the woman she still thought of as her mistress.

  Florrie stared hard at her reflection, blinking back the threatened tears as she took in the heavily painted face and the scars still visible beneath the layers of powder and rouge. She had hoped… Swallowing painfully, she managed not to let her disappointment show, determined not to upset the kindly woman any further, and smiled with gratitude. ‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer, you’re a marvel! I can go to my children now without worrying I’ll frighten the life out of them. Would you call Robert for me? I want…’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’

  Turning to the sound, Florrie’s face became sombre. For Nellie’s sake she spoke with an enthusiasm she was far from feeling. ‘Look, Robert. Isn’t Mrs Palmer a marvel! She…�
�

  ‘Yes, indeed, she’s worked wonders.’ His brusque tone wiped the smiles from both women’s faces. Seeing the effect of his words, Robert softened. After all, he reasoned, it would serve no purpose to have Anne leaving here miserable. Lord knows, she was going to have a tough time ahead without his making things any more difficult. ‘You’ve done well, Mrs Palmer,’ he said kindly. ‘Now you can do another service. Will you see to the packing of An… I mean Florrie’s, clothes? I’m sure she is anxious to be on her way.’

  Knowing now the extent of his true feelings, and recognising how much he must be hurting, Florrie knew that the sooner she was on her way the better it would be for all concerned. She herself didn’t know how much more of this highly charged atmosphere she could endure. It was only the urgent desire to see her children that was keeping her from breaking down. There was just one more thing she had to do. It would hurt Robert deeply, but it had to be done. Speaking in a firm voice, she said, ‘No, Robert. I’m deeply grateful for the offer, but I can’t accept. I cannot return to my family laden with expensive clothing. How would it look?’

  ‘But, ma’am,’ Nellie interjected, ‘you can’t go without a change of clothing, and you’ve got such lovely dresses…’

  ‘I have my own clothes at home, Mrs Palmer,’ Florrie reminded her gently. At least she hoped her clothes were still there. Maybe Kate had given them away? Almost immediately she dismissed the foolish thought. Kate would never dispose of her mother’s clothes. Apart from sentimental reasons, it wouldn’t be practical. She had likely been using them for herself and Alice and Sally… Oh, she missed them! The urge to see her children was growing stronger by the second, pulling at her heart with a physical force. Getting to her feet, she found that her legs felt like jelly, and had to grasp Nellie’s arm for support, laughing gaily in an effort to dispel the look of distress from their faces.

  ‘Could you send for a cab, Robert?’ Again she gave a shaky laugh. ‘As you can see, I appear to be a trifle unsteady on my feet.’